


Love The Way You...

by Scorpius



Category: Inception (2010)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:04:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius/pseuds/Scorpius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another take on how Arthur and Eames have a 'thing' together. Arthur's dense. Eames... kind of stalker-ish. Not quite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love The Way You...

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Started this when I was listening to the lyrics of Eminem’s ‘love the way you lie’ song. Both versions. Seriously. But, in any case, whoa! More writing!

Eames had never known he had a possessive bone in his body, until the moment he met Arthur, the right-hand Point man of one Dominic Cobb, architect. He’d always known that he was inherently a selfish man, but he couldn’t have survived being the best of the best by being generous, could he? It took ruthlessness to be the best of the best—in his case, the best forger in the entirety of the dream-sharing world.

So said Cobb, when he introduced the British man to an intense-looking Arthur, who stared at Eames with obvious distaste in his dark brown eyes.

Maybe it was the little moue of disgust on Arthur’s face, or the way he held himself so rigidly as he shook hands with Eames: quick, and unsubtly threatening in the firm way he squeezed Eames’ larger fingers.

Eames fell just a little bit in love, fell deeply in lust.

‘You’re mine,’ he thought. ‘I’ll make you mine.’

Yeah, the overprotective behavior Arthur displayed around Cobb on the job made him think that perhaps they were secret lovers, although it was well known that Cobb himself was obsessed in a lovey-dovey kind of way with his beautiful French wife, Mal; even if they had been secret lovers, Eames wasn’t above whisking Arthur away, to have him switch allegiance and loyalties.

Eames knew he could do it. He’d pulled the wool over the eyes of so many past marks and co-workers with his arsenal of seductive wiles, could make them believe he was a perfect dream come true, a living fantasy. Even for a lark, sometimes—though, mostly for gain. And so many of those fantasies he encountered were boring, boring, boring… but Arthur, well. Arthur looked and sounded dull and uninteresting but his eyes and his dreamscapes were something else.

To Eames, it was like literally looking at a pearl that was Arthur, while Arthur himself projected to the world the boring shield of an oyster.

Ah, if he caught Arthur’s eye…

The first job with Arthur—the man kept himself at a minimum interaction with Eames, so the bulk of his research information came from Cobb who was obviously the charismatic of the two, who spoke enough for the both of them to get their point across to Eames about what they wanted in his role. Simple stuff, nothing he didn’t do before.

The highlight of the job was when their chemist, a polished-looking Italian man in his mid-30s, literally curled inward at the sight of Arthur, when the young man made a graceful entry into the warehouse. Quickly thrusting the needed Somnacin at an amused Cobb, the man scurried past Arthur and out the warehouse, as though he was fleeing for his life.

Eames raised his eyebrows at Arthur, who scowled at both him and Cobb.

The job went without a hitch and they all went their separate way until the next time ‘they’ needed him—4 months later, to become a mark’s sister in some dreary looking American city. The surprising thing was that it was Arthur who had called him.

He’d already fell into some serious R.E.M. cycle, secure and dozing in his little apartment in Mombasa, when he’d gotten the call.

“Hullo.”

“Mr. Eames.”

He had no shame, might never have been born with any need for it. A hand was already in his pajama trousers and he grinned. His sleep husky voice came drawling out.

“Arthur. Lovely to hear from you.”

Stony silence, then:

“Cobb has an offer for you.”

“An offer?” He pulled on himself with one long stroke. “Will you be there as well, Arthur?”

Silence.

He quietly chuckled into the phone.

“I will come. Arthur.”

Sudden click and then dial tone.

And he did.

* * * * * *

 

Arthur showed up in his ridiculous (but gorgeously tailored) suit to pick him up at the airport, and without saying a single word, led Eames to a waiting car and then they were off, presumably to their warehouse of choice.

Except Arthur decided to hit some back road outside the perimeter of the city—glaring over the dashboard the entire time—and screech to a halt at an obviously dead end, fields on either side of them.

Eames had been warily watching Arthur out the corner of his eye, wondering if perhaps there’d been a hit on his head and whether Arthur was about to score an even bigger paycheck by doing the deed. Except:

“Why are you tracking me?”

Eames paused. “I beg your pardon?”

Arthur’s fingers were tight on the drivers’ wheel, minutely shifting. In a quiet voice, he said:

“Don’t be stupid. I know you’ve been tracking me even before we worked together. Usually it stops after a job, but you’re still doing it. I want to know why and if it’s going to be a problem. Because if it is a problem—a serious problem, then I’m going to have to take you out.”

Eames was momentarily taken aback.

Arthur took his silence as affirmative and slightly shook his head.

“You’ve got one minute to explain to me.”

Eames slowly exhaled. “… and… if I don’t?”

“I will shoot you and leave you here to bleed out or strap you in and set the car on fire. I’ll even let you decide.”

Christ.

Eames slowly sat up in his chair and thought, Okay. Alright, then.

“I want you.”

There, he said it. Sooner than he’d expected to, really.

 Arthur had only narrowed his eyes at him, his young face looking quite menacing in the low light of the dusky evening.

“I only work with Cobb.”

Okay, he clearly didn’t get it.

“That’s not what I meant, darling.”

Then, leaning closer to Arthur’s tense face, keeping eye contact with his dark eyes, he murmured, “I. Want. You.”

Yeah, that did it. He knew Arthur got it by his sharp inhalation, could practically feel the man’s edginess intensify.

Thinly smiling. “Is that all, Mr. Eames?”

Eames returned the smile. “The very thing.”

Still coldly smiling, Arthur had started the car and drove them to a warehouse on the other side of the city, where an exasperated Cobb was waiting and quietly asking Arthur what took him so long and did he already brief Eames on the mark’s lover?

Again, minimal interaction with Arthur. Another smooth job, another beautiful paycheck and off they went their separate ways.

 

* * * * * *

 

A short month later, Cobb was asking for assistance and apologizing for it, as if Eames was beyond and above helping them with their relatively easy jobs. Eames never said no to money.

Especially if the money was a bonus to Arthur being involved in the job.

Again, Arthur picked him up at an airport. This time, the man refused to look Eames in the eye, doing his best to keep a safe distance although Eames would have none of it. He would softly bump against Arthur’s side, brush against him as if by accident and even blatantly stare at Arthur’s bravely stoic and handsome face.

During the quiet ride to Cobb’s location, another warehouse, Eames blurted out without thinking “I want to kiss you.”

Feeling somewhat appalled at his own sudden admission, he glanced toward Arthur and found the man staring angrily out at the road ahead of him, muscle in his jaw working.

Still, Arthur said nothing, and Eames continued to stare at him until they arrived at the warehouse.

Cobb was oblivious to the tension between the two men, and probably thought that the quietness on Arthur’s part was sheer dedication and Eames was being Eames, as usual, except brooding and almost rude to the point of being snarky.

On the third night of the job, while in dreamscape with Arthur and Cobb, he decided to make his definite move—after Cobb shot himself out of the dream and left the two of them alone.

Before Arthur could lift his own gun to his head, Eames was up in his space, standing in front of him with his hand on the man’s gun. He lifted it to his own head with Arthur’s hand still on the trigger, and stared into shadowed eyes full of vague shock.

When Arthur didn’t immediately pull the trigger, Eames slowly inched forward, his hand still training the gun to his own skull.

Emboldened by Arthur’s lack of response, he let the full extent of his desire show on his face; let his mouth go slack as his gaze slowly dropped from Arthur’s eyes to his lips, and then a lingering downward sweep of the point man’s slender, suited body.

His eyes snapped back to Arthur’s when he heard the man give a sharp intake of breath, looking decidedly flushed, and as angry as ever.

And then Arthur yanked back and shot himself, leaving flecks of blood on Eames’ favorite dream paisley jacket.

Eames wasn’t sure what upset him the most: Arthur shooting himself to get away from Eames, or the fact he didn’t shoot at Eames, leaving Eames to pick the gun out of Arthur’s still warm hands.

Arthur was already gone from the warehouse when he came out, and Cobb was frowning at him.

“Is there a problem, Eames, I should know about?”

Eames shrugged, easy and casual.

“Personality clash is my guess.”

 

* * * * * *

 

He didn’t expect for Arthur to give his own response, anytime soon.

Certainly didn’t expect Arthur to be waiting in Eames’ hotel room like an assassin.

Didn’t expect to get sucker punched as soon as he stepped into his room.

As he lay there on the hotel floor, with blood in his mouth and a slight ringing in his ears, he felt Arthur hover over his prone body.

“I don’t know what you want from me, or why you’re investing so much energy into researching me but if I find out that you’re selling us out, I will kill you. This is my final warning, Eames.”

Eames coughed a bit and grimly grinned up at Arthur, through stinging eyes.

“If I wanted to act so low, darling, wouldn’t I also be looking into The Cobbs as well?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“My dear Arthur, such a paranoid fucker.”

“Fuck you.”

“I kind of wish you would, Arthur.”

Of course, Arthur chose that moment to simply walk out of the room. He couldn’t even give Eames the courtesy of slamming the door behind him.

Eames, mouth full of throbbing pain, began to laugh.

He was going to have to try harder.

Obviously.


End file.
